Opposites Attract
by Coconutlove47
Summary: Gerard is everything Frank wants to be. Smart, popular, and admittedly very attractive. Frank was the exact opposite. So why was Gerard talking to him? Frerard.
1. Routine

I know, I shouldn't be working on this while I have other fics to finish T_T But DON'T YOU JUDGE ME! (Ever watched My Name Is Earl? xD)

Anyway, I like it when people review. And lately on the other ones I've been looking at the traffic stats, and there are a lot more people reading them than reviewing. So, male, female or penguin, review. I even love the anonymous ones. *hint hint*

Now I'll shut up and let you enjoy the first chapter :)

* * *

Gerard was a social butterfly, to say the least.

Me? Antisocial. Look it up in the dictionary, and you'll find a picture of me.

Also, he was a straight A pupil, so the teachers loved him, too. I wasn't terrible at school, but the highest I'd ever got in my report was one A- out of C's and B's.

Honor roll student, dozens of friends, downright attractive, Gerard was everything I wanted to be.

But I wasn't. I was just Frank. Someone whose name you'd have to think twice about before making the connection, if you'd even heard of me before. And when you did, you'd wonder why that name was brought up in the first place. I was an…ex-emo, I guess. I used to cut myself because of family problems, but I eventually stopped and toughened up a little. Watching from the sidelines can make you stronger sometimes.

I watched him sitting on the grass at the other end of the yard, laughing with his "followers" (they pretty much worshiped him) and picking at his lunch. I sighed and began to fork through my salad, avoiding the chicken.

Did I mention this happens every day?

Eventually the bell rang, and I stood up, invisible in the crowd of people leaving. The rest of the day dragged through Math and Phys Ed. Shame he didn't have Gym with me. Or not- I'd probably just get jealous. The only thing I can do in life is play guitar.

I trudged along the streets of Jersey, back to my house, and opened the door, inhaling the familiar scent of home. I heard my dad scuffling around in the kitchen and went to investigate.

He looked up and smiled when I walked in, causing his eyes to crease just like mine do.

"Hey, my boy," he grinned. "How was school?"

I shrugged. "Usual. Did you hear anything from…?"

His face fell, and I regretted asking.

"No," he said quietly. "I don't think your mom is going to come home."

The day I started cutting was the day after the fight. Arguing led to screaming, screaming led to tears, and tears led to mom leaving the house. She hadn't returned since. Dad had never really been happy since then, and neither had I.

"How was your day at work?" I asked, quickly changing the subject. But I knew he was no longer in the mood for conversation.

"Fine," he mumbled, and I stood there awkwardly before muttering a few incoherent words under my breath and trotting to my room.

I pulled out my guitar and played for hours, only leaving once to eat dinner and use the bathroom.

I think I fell asleep with it in my lap.

Morning speared my eyes, and I sat up, blinking. My guitar was on the floor, and I yawned and dragged myself to the dresser, pulling out a random shirt and black skinny jeans. I lined my eyes with black- it's not eyeliner, it's _guy_liner, get it right- and munched down a bowl of cereal before slipping on my converse, throwing my bag over my shoulder and repeating the same process I had been doing all my life.

Tuesday and Wednesday passed without incident.

On Thursday, once again I was sitting on the grass.

Once again, I was eating lunch.

Once again, I was subconsciously staring at Gerard.

Almost as if to make me realize I was doing it, some girl walked past me, blocking my view, and tripped over my feet, stumbling and almost dropping her lunch. She glared at me before making a "humph" sound and strutting away.

I pulled my legs up to my chest and rested my head on my knees, pushing away my lunch. I didn't feel that hungry any more.

I began to watch Gerard again. Call me a stalker, but he's like my idol.

Suddenly, he stood up, and I heard him tell his friends he would be right back.

I closed my eyes and buried my face in my arms.

I didn't hear the quiet footsteps approaching me until I felt a soft tap on my shoulder and raised my head.

Oh my God. It was him. What did he want? Was I in his way or something? Why was he risking being seen with me? Why was he even here? Woah, Frank. Breathe. Calm.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Of course he cared about me. He cared about everyone. That's why everyone loved him so much.

"Define 'alright.'"

He sat down next to me. Holy cheezits, Gerard Way is sitting next to me. Me.

"You looked sad. Actually, you look sad all the time. Why?"

That made me turn my head to look at him directly. "You notice me?"

He ran his hand through his casually messy black hair that looked really, really soft, and for a moment I wanted to touch it. Then he spoke. Wait, focus. "Well, uh, is that weird?"

I shook my head frantically. "No, I just thought I was invisible."

He let his hand fall. "Not really. Well, not to me. You always look so lonely."

I shrugged. "I am. Not going to sugarcoat it."

He smiled crookedly at me, and then stood up, holding his hand down to me. "Why don't you join me?"

I stared at him in shock. "Really?"

Holy mother of God's-

"Sure. Why not?"

I took his hand, noticing how smooth his skin was- unlike my calloused guitar fingers- and let him pull me to his circle of friends.

They looked up, grinning, but didn't hide it when their faces fell and their mouths curled with distaste when they saw me.

Invisible, because hated when seen.

"You guys know Frank, right? He's in our year," Gerard announced, dropping my hand.

They all nodded stiffly, some murmuring agreement.

After receiving no invitation for me to join them, Gerard shrugged and pulled me over to a shaded corner where it was slightly less busy.

"So, what's wrong?" he asked as we sat down again.

I sighed. "Loads of family problems. Having no one to talk to about it doesn't help, either."

"You can talk to me," he murmured.

"I don't see why you'd even bother in the first place."

"But why? There's nothing wrong with you!" he exclaimed.

"There is," I assured him. "But now's not the time."

He debated it for a moment, and then slowly nodded. "Okay."

Giddy confusion. One of the stranger emotions I've felt.

Just then, the bell rang, and of course all good things end far too quickly. We stood up in synchronization and began walking back to class.

Once we parted ways, I practically skipped to math, my mind buzzing with excitement.

Even the teachers seemed nicer. Or maybe it was just my bright mood.

When I went home that afternoon, my dad had left a note saying that he had a job interview for a really important, big, fancy business, so that was a plus. He had also gone shopping, I noted as I checked the fridge. Also a plus.

And, since he was gone, I had the house to myself, so I fried some bacon and watched TV for a while before blasting Iron Maiden while doing my math homework.

I think I fell asleep on the couch, but I wouldn't realize that until morning.

The next day, my heart was pounding in anticipation. I yanked on all my favorite clothes, brushed my hair thoroughly and made sure my eyeliner- guyliner, excuse me, was perfect before heading out the door.

I sat in homeroom until the bell rang, and my stomach jumped when I realized what class was next.

Chemistry.

One of the two classes I had with Gerard.

He was usually in the middle of the room, working hard and following the directions to a T. I had a bad grade in this class because I usually just mixed stuff to see if it would explode.

This time, though, his friends were at a separate table than him, and he was working alone in the back.

I gulped, swallowing my nerves, and walked towards him. "Hey."

He looked up, and then smiled. "Hey, Frank."

"Can I join you?"

He smirked sassily. "Can you?"

I laughed. "I would hope so. May I?"

He nodded, gesturing to the seat next to him. I sat, my mind buzzing.

"What are we working on?" I asked as I put on the ridiculously large goggles.

He looked at his paper. "Um…well, we mix the thiodiglycol, marked C4H10O2S…it's the yellow one, with the benzene, marked C6H6. We need two ml of the yellow one mixed into 15 ml of the other. I'll be right back, I have to get a syringe."

I nodded and began measuring out the chemicals. The thio-whatever looked really weird. I knew it wasn't poisonous, even though the benzene was…

Reckless as I was, I grabbed it and took a drink. It tasted disgusting, and I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Gross.

Gerard returned right at the moment I screwed the cap back on. No one had seen anything. They were too busy working on their own experiments.

"Did you measure it?" he asked. I nodded.

"Right. Let's do this."

He mixed the two together and took an amount into the syringe, mixing it with a third chemical. It turned bright green and fizzed a little.

He smiled. "Awesome. You might want to write down what happened," he noted, pointing to my paper. I began scribbling down what had occurred, and answered the questions about chemical reactions.

Too soon, the bell rang, and I helped scrub out everything, sighing in relief when it was done.

"See you at lunch, then?" he asked cheerfully, putting his goggles away.

"Sure," I smiled.

A snap of the fingers and I was talking to Gerard. Eating with him at lunch.

Unexpected? Yes. Unwanted? No.


	2. This Chemical Romance

_Time lapse of three days, in which it is now Tuesday._

"Mrs. Rossingnol, can I go to the nurse? I'm feeling really sick." It was the middle of Biology, and I didn't exactly feel like working for an hour on the skeleton of a cat.

She nodded and handed me a hall pass.

The nurse, once I got there and pretended I had an upset stomach, gave me some water and sent me back to class. Of course, I had no intention of returning and instead took a detour to the supply closet where there were no security cameras.

I was not expecting, however, another person to be in there.

Gerard jumped when I opened the door, but sighed in relief and went back to his drawing when he realized I wasn't a teacher.

I walked over to the opposite wall and sat down facing him. "Hey."

He looked up, and then smiled. "Oh, hey Frank. I didn't recognize you at first."

That stung a little, until he added, "Your hood was up."

I pulled it back down, not realizing it had. "I didn't notice. What are you drawing?"

"Um," he blushed, "a vampire."

"Seriously? That is so cool. Vampires are awesome."

He grinned. "Totally."

So, today was weird. Gerard skipping class. Gerard drawing a vampire. Gerard taking note that my hood was up when it usually wasn't.

Was he the boy I thought he was, or not?

"Can I see?" I asked.

He hesitated, but then scooted over beside me and showed me his notebook.

It was a picture of a dark-haired teenage boy bent over a girl. At first glance, it seemed he was simply kissing her neck, but then I noticed the very precise expression of fear and shock on her face, and the dark trail dripping down her shoulder.

I was speechless.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Do you like it?"

Luckily, my voice jumped back into my throat. A bit too sudden, maybe, because the words came out half-strangled. "It's amazing."

He smiled. "Thanks."

"No problem. Hey, why are you skipping class?"

He shrugged. "It's Gym. I really don't feel like getting hit with dodgeballs for an hour. Also, no one's going to notice I'm gone."

Why would someone hit you with a dodgeball? How _could _someone hit _you_ with a dodgeball? Why aren't you in class? Why don't you always have perfect attendance like I thought? Why would no one notice you were gone?

I would notice…

"Yeah," I sighed. "I hate Gym."

"Same here."

"Do you usually skip it?"

"Nah. Only occasionally."

"Same here."

"You already said that," he noted.

"You noticed."

He fell silent, a pink tinge appearing on his cheekbones. Hurriedly, he flipped to a new page and began scribbling.

I wrapped my arms around my knees and watched him draw. It was kind of relaxing, to be honest.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching the closet.

"Oh God, oh shit, oh fuck," I whispered frantically. I'm not normally one to swear, but it was certain death if someone caught us here.

I scooted-slash-crabwalked back against the wall behind a floor-cleaner thing as fast as I could, when suddenly I hit something soft. I looked back and saw Gerard with panicked eyes, shushing me and pulling me into his lap.

We flattened ourselves against the wall as the clicking of heels drew nearer. I heard them stop and open the door. I literally stopped breathing as I heard them take a few steps in. Then, miraculously, they turned and left, shutting the door behind them muttering about their hearing.

I exhaled once they were out of earshot and glanced at Gerard, sliding off his legs and onto the floor like Jell-O.

"That," he said shakily, "was close."

"Yes. Yes it was."

I looked at him again and almost burst out laughing.

He frowned. "What's so funny?"

"You," I choked out. "Your face was priceless."

He chuckled. "Let's just say I'm not used to these kind of situations."

"I can tell."

"Thanks."

"You said it first." Oh God please don't let me mess this up.

He laughed, which made me almost sigh with relief. "I know."

I slid back to the other wall as Gerard resumed his position on the floor.

"Gerard?"

"Hmm?"

"I didn't know you liked vampires."

"Well," he muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear with his left hand as his right flew across the page, graphite darkening his fingers, "I do. There's a lot about me people don't know, or expect for that matter. They think I'm a perfect boy with a perfect life, perfect friends…even a perfect family. But," at this he laughs darkly, "I don't. I'm not. It's not all fake, there's just more under the surface."

"What do you like…what _are_ you like, then?" I prompted.

He looked a bit startled. "We hardly know each other."

"Everything has to begin somewhere," I pointed out.

He hesitated. "I think I have too much to tell you. Why don't you come over later?"

Me. At. _His. _House.

"Sure. We can get to know each other better."

He smiled. "I'm glad. I always thought you were pretty interesting, Frank."

I have to fight to not smack myself across the face. Surely this is one of my hallucinations from when I…

Never mind. You'll find out when Gerard does, if ever.

After about five more minutes, the bell trilled sharply, and we both jumped up. Quickly, we slid out of the closet and casually began walking away.

"To Chem?" Gerard grinned.

"To Chem," I grinned back.

We walked in silence until we reached the classroom, then he sat at the same table in the back, and I followed him uncertainly. When I paused he looked up and smiled, gesturing lazily to the seat next to me.

"What are you waiting for?" he smiles cheekily.

"Um, let's see…a miracle in which I'm not hated by everyone in this hellhole?" I mumbled as I sat down.

"With just one exception," he says as he pulls out our sheets from last chemistry class.

I looked at him curiously.

His cryptic eyes met mine darkly for a minute before he turned back to his worksheet.

I blushed and turned back to the questions.

I'm beginning to think this peculiar boy is hiding secrets.

"Alright, class," Mr. Fray booms as the bell rings a second time, signaling that class has started. "Today's free day. Anything flammable or toxic has been removed from the shelves, and the most you can make might be smoke, if you get that far. Have fun!"

While everyone else rushed to the ingredients, I leaned back and waited for them to clear out. "So basically, we just mix things and see if they go 'boom'?"

Gerard let out a snort of laughter. "Pretty much."

Once there was enough space to reach the shelves, I grabbed a couple of the brightly colored ones and headed back to Gerard, weaving between people.

I set them on the table, grabbing an empty beaker and two pairs of goggles. We put them on, and I immediately felt like a geek. Only Gerard could pull it off.

Gerard took a flask of green liquid and one of red and poured them together. They started bubbling, mixing together and swirling around each other almost lovingly.

"What should we call it?" Gerard said proudly, obviously satisfied.

"Well, I know it sounds weird, but it looks like they're in…love or something. Look how they're almost being wrapped around each other."

Gerard laughed lightly. "No, it's not. I can see how you'd see that. So it's like a romance…a chemical romance," he grinned.

"Chemical Romance?"

"Yep."

"That's actually pretty good. So, we made Chemical Romance, then."

"Nuh-uh," he said teasingly, sticking his tongue out at me like a two-year-old. "I made it. So it's _my_ Chemical Romance."

"My Chemical Romance?"

"No, mine."

"Fine, _your_ Chemical Romance," I laughed, shaking my head and grinning. "Now it's my turn."

We spent the rest of the class mixing together colorful substances and giving them ridiculous names. I think one of them I named Gopher Skull, though I'm not sure why.

The bell rang, and we headed for lunch.

Gerard and I were eating when suddenly he stood up. "I'll be right back," he told me, and headed for the bathroom.

I shrugged and continued to eat.

Someone tapped on my shoulder. I turned to find myself face-to-face with one of the people from Gerard's old clique.

"You," he hissed. "You think you can steal Gerard like that? Well, think again."

I shook my head. "I'm not trying to. He just…came by himself."

"Yeah right," he snorted. "Gerard wouldn't do that."

I looked him straight in the eyes. "He already did."

"Sam?" Gerard called as he walked back, wiping his hands on his jeans and sitting next to me. I felt a small twinge of victory at this. "What are you doing here?"

Sam looked hurt.

"What do you mean what am _I_ doing here? Why are you hanging out with this freak anyway?"

Gerard stood up faster than I could have ever thought possible. His eyes turned dark, and for a minute he looked really scary.

"He," Gerard hissed dangerously, eyes flashing, "is no more of a freak than you are."

"So, now you're calling me a fat-ass faggot?"

Gerard growled and made to move towards him, but I grabbed the back of his shirt and shook my head with wide eyes. "Gerard, don't."

"Did you not hear what he just called you?"

"It's fine. I've been called worse."

He looked at me with a sad expression. "I know. And I wasn't there."

"Gerard, it's fine."

He looked back at Sam. "This time, because we _used_ to be friends, I won't do anything that could get me suspended. But if you so much as spit in his direction…"

Gerard sat back down, still glaring. Sam gave us both cold looks before returning to his clique.

"What _have_ you been called?" Gerard asked softly.

"Well, there's that, along with fucktard, dick-face, and a bunch of others I'd rather not say. Faggot is the most popular, though."

"…Are you gay, then?"

I thought about it, while Gerard quickly added, "It's okay if you are. I mean, personally gay people are cool. Sorry if you got offended or something or-"

"Gerard," I laughed. "It's fine. Really, I'm not sure if I am. The only person who's gotten near enough to speak to me without insults is…you, really, if you don't count my family."

He scratched the back of his neck. "Oh."

I laughed, stabbing a piece of lettuce with a fork. "So, do you still want me to come over?"

He nodded uncertainly. "Kind of. I do want you to come over, I just don't want…"

"Don't want what?"

He seemed to choose his words carefully. "You'll see when you get there."

I let it drop.


	3. Fragile

The rest of the day dragged, even though my gut was twisted with anticipation and excitement. Gerard had told me to meet him at the park after school, and I couldn't wait to go.

The bell rang, and to me it was music to my ears as I skipped out of the classroom, earning weird looks from students passing by. Throwing my stuff in my locker, I walked home, bubbling over with anticipation.

"Dad, guess what!" I grinned as I dumped my bag on the floor.

He looked at me and smiled. "Good news?"

"Yep! I made a new friend today! His name's Gerard, and I'm supposed to meet him at the park…can I go?"

"Of course you can, son. I'm proud of you. Have fun, be safe!"

I love my dad.

I gave him a quick hug before grabbing an apple and walking back out the door, heading for the park.

I sat down on a bench once I got there and waited for Gerard to arrive.

Five minutes had passed and my happiness was starting to ebb away. Maybe he wasn't coming at all. Maybe I was stupid to think we could be friends. Maybe-

"Hey, Frank. Sorry I'm late," Gerard said as he walked over the grass.

"It's fine," I smiled. "Is your house far from here?"

"Not really. It's only a block away."

"Do you want to go, then…?" I asked, confidence suddenly evaporated, shifting my weight nervously from one foot to the other.

He laughed. "Of course. Come on, let's go."

I smiled and followed him up the street.

We stopped in front of a rather plain, but still nice, house.

"Um…" Gerard said quietly. "Wait here."

I obeyed, and he walked up the paved walkway, opening the door just a little bit before sighing and flicking one finger in a signal for me to join him.

"Frank, I'm sorry you have to see this, so do you mind if we go straight to my room?"

"No, I don't mind."

He exhaled, "Okay," and the door swung open.

It was not at all what I expected.

There were stains on the carpet- most likely from vomit, judging from the bottles of vodka and whiskey that littered the couch. It was filthy, to say the least. A drunken figure lay sprawled and snoring loudly on the couch, and the B.O. coming from that guy almost burned my eyes.

Gerard pulled me quickly towards a door that probably led to his room, and when he opened it, yanked me inside, and shut the door and locked it I knew it was, even before I turned around.

He had his own bathroom, to which I was grateful, and the posters littering the walls meant he had fantastic taste in music. His bedcovers were slightly ruffled, but other than that it was rather clean.

He sat down on the black and red duvet, motioning for me to sit down beside him. I did so.

"No one's ever been to my house before except Robin Martin in 5th grade, but he moved. I'm sure it's a bit of a shock, isn't it?"

I nodded quietly.

"So," he said in a businesslike tone. "You first. Who is Frank Iero?"

"Do you promise you won't judge me?"

"Frank, I'm pretty sure I'm worse than you are. I won't judge you."

I took off my sweater and pressed my forearms to my knees. Slowly, I turned them over and showed him.

He didn't scoff, and he didn't look at me like a freak.

You know what he did?

He smiled.

Rather sadly, actually.

"Come with me," he said softly. I followed him to his bathroom.

He took a washcloth, wet it, put…makeup remover… on it, and began scrubbing his left arm. I couldn't see what was happening, since we were facing each other and he was holding his forearm to his chest.

Finally, he showed me the washcloth. It was covered with…concealer?

Then he showed me his arm.

Our scars matched.

"Gerard," I gasped.

"I hid them. I never wanted anyone to know what I had done. I was scared, ashamed…I was alone, Frank."

To my disbelief, I saw that he had begun to cry.

In a small bathroom, on September 17th, I, Frank Iero, wrapped my arms around Gerard Way, and whispered, "It's okay. You're okay."

He hugged me back and breathed, "I am now."

If he had any idea the effect those words had on me, he probably would have said it differently.

But he didn't. And it meant the world to me.

Suddenly, I felt something hot and wet drip onto the back of my shirt.

I look around to see him crying.

All I can do is hold him tighter.

We stay like that for an eternity, or maybe a minute, and finally he releases me and I him. We stare at each other for a second before he smiles weakly at me. I smile back and rub my thumb across his cheek, wiping away the tears.

But when I remove my hand there is a hint of purple on his face. And it doesn't look like makeup.

I look at my fingers.

There's concealer on them.

"Gerard, can you go sit back down on your bed for a minute? I have to do something."

He looks curious, but nods and returns to his mattress.

I grab the same washcloth he used, rinse it off, and apply more makeup remover to it. Then I walked back into his bedroom and stood next to his bed.

"Lie down on your back," I instructed.

"Why?"

"Just trust me."

He did so.

I got on his bed and kneeled at his feet, hiding the cloth behind my back. Without warning, I pounced on him, straddling his waist and pinning him down further with my free hand. I took the washcloth and began to scrub his face.

At first, he didn't react, his eyes wide and breathing shallow, but then he realized what I was doing and began to squirm.

"Gerard…just…let me," I panted, struggling to hold him.

"Frank, get off…me," he half-shouted.

That's it. No more Mr. Nice Guy.

I lay completely over him and pushed him down as hard as I could. I suppose in any other situation it would have been extremely awkward. Not that it wasn't, I was just focused on getting the makeup off of his face.

He seemed to be struggling a bit less.

"Frank…don't…"

His voice was weaker, too.

I looked straight at him. "Gerard, please, just let me."

He sighed. "I guess you'd have to find out sometime."

I took that as permission.

I climbed off of him and instead kneeled next to his head, wiping all the concealer off more gently now.

Once I was done, I removed the cloth from his face.

I inhaled sharply.

Bruises and cuts covered his face.

"What happened?"

"My family happened."

"Your dad?"

"And my mom. And Mikey."

"Mikey?"

"My brother."

"Your brother did this to you?" I gasped, feeling tears welling up in my eyes.

"He helped. He's not exactly…"

"What?"

"…Sane," he mumbled.

"How so?"

"He has a mental disorder, okay? Mikey…he's bipolar. Really bad."

"…Oh," I said in a small voice.

Gerard sighed, hugging his stomach protectively.

I lay down next to him on my back, mirroring his position.

"Hey," I nudged his shoulder with mine. "It's going to be okay."

He sighed again. "I hope so."

I propped myself up on one elbow and grabbed his chin, turning his head to face mine. "Look at me. I'm going to make sure you make it through this."

Tears began falling from his eyes again, down over his battered cheeks. "Did you ever see what happens when I look in a mirror?"

I was stunned. I looked back over to his bathroom to realize that he, indeed, did not have a mirror. "No."

"It's because I'm so…_I'm so fucking hideous!"_ he yelled, curling upwards as if doing a sit-up and crying into his palms.

"Gerard…Gerard…Gee, shush, it's alright."

He fell back onto his bed, sniffling and wiping his eyes. "You c-called me Gee," he said, not like a question, just stating it.

"Huh," I mused. "I did. I don't know where it came from, honestly…"

"I like it."

"You do?"

He sniffed again. "Yeah. No one's ever called me that. It's always been 'Gerard,' or 'Way,' or 'Teacher's Pet.'"

"They call you that?"

He shrugged. "It's because I work hard to keep my grades up, because I don't want to end up like my dad, if that's a dad."

I nodded. "You're actually an inspiration, you know. And you're not hideous."

He scoffed. "Please. The only reason my 'friends' stick with me is because I give them help on their homework."

"Well, don't help them!"

"Then I'd just be alone," he whimpered.

"Uh, hello? What am I, chopped liver?" I said exasperatedly.

Suddenly, he looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

"Frank?" he breathed.

I waved. "Hiya."

He propped himself up on his elbows and opened his mouth to say something, but before he could my phone buzzed. I groaned and looked at the screen.

It was from my dad. _Hey, time to come home, kiddo._

"I have to go," I grumbled.

Gerard's eyes widened. "Don't leave!"

I absentmindedly rubbed his knee. "I'll see you in the morning. Just make it through the night. I'll sleep over if I can tomorrow."

He nodded, biting his lip. Suddenly, he buried his face in my chest, breathing deeply.

"I don't want you to go," he choked.

I patted his hair awkwardly. "Gerard, if you feel threatened in any way at any time, call me."

I grabbed a pen lying on his bedside table and wrote my number on his arm.

He nodded, clinging to my shirt. "Okay."

I stood up and made to leave, but then turned around. "Gerard?"

"Yeah?"

"What were you going to say before my phone interrupted you?"

"I, uh…" he said, picking at a loose thread and looking up at me from under his eyelashes. "I was going to say, are we like, official friends now?"

I fought the urge to scream, "_Hell yes, we are!"_ but instead simply replied with a nod and a small smile.

There were two Gerard's now. A confident, outgoing Gerard I idolized, and a fragile, concealed Gerard I supposed I protected.

As I darted through the tainted fumes of the rest of the house and out the door, walking down the pathway, I thought about something that had happened earlier.

Gerard had seemed a bit more passive than he should have been while I was wiping the makeup off of his face, lying across him.

Maybe I was being a naive teenager. But I'm allowed to think.

Part of me hoped he was straight.

And another part…rather disagreed.

* * *

THE IRONIC TWIST. HOW EXPECTEDLY UNEXPECTED xD

EHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHH *failed evil scientist laugh*


	4. Moral Support

"Ugh," I groaned.

Fucking school.

That was, until I remembered what had happened yesterday.

I jumped out of bed, grinning as I threw on my regular clothes and yanked a brush through my unruly hair.

Soon after, I was sitting in Biology, glancing anxiously at the clock. Chemistry couldn't come fast enough.

"Mr. Iero," Mrs. Rossingnol snapped, glaring down at me. "Would you care to share with the class what you are waiting for?"

"Chemistry," I answered honestly.

"And why is that?"

"Because I like to mix things," I lied.

She gave me an evil look before returning to the bone she was describing. I rolled my eyes when she wasn't looking and continued doodling a vampire bat on my notebook.

The bell trilled, and I literally jumped out of my seat. Naturally, I was the first one out the door.

I dashed to my locker and hurled my extra books inside, and then heading straight to Chemistry.

But when I walked into the classroom, Gerard was nowhere to be seen.

My heart sunk.

I went to go sit down at our- _I mean,_ the empty one, of course- table and sighed as the bell rang, putting my head in my arms and sulking while my thoughts were racing.

Is he okay? Is he embarrassed about yesterday? Did his dad hurt him at all? Did _Mikey_ get a hold of-

Gerard staggered into the room, looking breathless. He flopped down beside me, panting as the teacher finished organizing her desk and turned to the microscope.

"Hey, Gee!" I greeted. He smiled at the nickname.

"Hey, Frank. If you're wondering why I'm late, it's because I forgot my Chemistry shit in the Gym, and I had to run all the way there and back."

"Ah. I see. Now, look," I said, lowering my voice so that only he could hear. "About yesterday…"

Gerard sighed dejectedly. "I guess you want nothing to do with me now, huh?"

"Not at all. I was wondering why you didn't tell anyone about that, if not me?"

"I did. I told Robin. But he moved, remember?"

"Yeah. And also, I was wondering if you wanted to sleep over. I'm sure my dad wouldn't mind."

"Oh."

Honestly, I had no idea where all of this confidence was coming from. Usually I'm too afraid to talk to anyone besides my family, and when I did I stuttered and tripped over my words like crazy.

But not Gerard. Gerard was easy to talk to.

"So, do you want to?"

"Sounds fantastic, really," he grinned.

"And, just so you know," I added. "This," I trailed my fingers across his forearm, dusting my own skin with his makeup, "is coming off. And you are going to tell me exactly how each one got there."

He frowned. "Demanding, much?"

I chuckled. "Yes, I am."

"Well, then," he replied, flipping over my own arm to reveal my own scars. "You," he pointed to the faded lines, "are going to tell me the story of Frank Iero, since I didn't get to hear it yesterday because of my, um, episode."

I sighed. "Deal."

He grinned. "Love you, Frank."

"Yeah, yeah. Love you too, Gee," I smiled.

I did love him, for sure. But how so?

As a friend? As a brother, even?

…As something more?

* * *

"Are you sure it's okay?" Gerard asked for the hundredth time as we walked from the school back to my house.

"Yes, Gerard, it's fine. I already texted my dad, and he's cool with it."

He beamed at me. "Thanks for inviting me, Frank."

"Any time." My mouth seriously has a mind of its own.

We arrived about five minutes later at my doorstep. I grinned at him. "Enter…if you dare."

"Oh, I dare," he laughed, stepping over the threshold. "Wow. Nice house."

"Why thank you."

"Of course."

I laughed. "Dad, Gerard's here!"

My dad, the amazing person he is, came around the corner with a tray of chocolate chip cookies, bless him.

Note to self: work harder to keep grades up.

My dad smiled at us, balancing the tray in one hand and holding the other out to Gerard. "You must be Gerard. Frank's told me a lot about you."

Gerard grinned at me and shook my dad's hand warmly. "Has he?"

Dad laughed. "Not really, but he's mentioned you, and you know, that's always the thing to say," he winked. Gerard chuckled.

"Have a cookie, you two," Dad offered, holding out the tray. We both took one.

"Thank you, Mr. Iero."

My dad smiled. "Please, don't call me that. Too formal. I would prefer Frank, but seeing as that's also my son's name, anything you like is fine. If you want, you can call me Dad," he added with a laugh.

Gerard smiled. "Okay, Dad."

I laughed. "Thanks, Dad. Let's go to my room, Gerard."

"Have fun!" Dad called as I led him down the hallway.

Gerard flopped down on my bed as soon as we entered the room. I giggled and poked him in the ribs. "Tired."

Gerard rolled over to face me. "Nah. Not really. Your dad's awesome. I wish he was my real dad," he said a little wistfully.

I really didn't want to get on this topic, so I changed the subject quickly. "Yeah, he's cool. Hey, what bands do you like, anyway? I saw your posters."

He paused for a minute, and then spewed out a list. "The Misfits, Black Flag, Iron Maiden, Queen, Bullet For My Valentine, Nirvana, Sick Puppies, Metallica, Green Day…the works."

Subconsciously I felt my mouth hanging open. "Why didn't you tell me? You basically just listed every one of my favorite bands."

Under the concealer on his face I knew he blushed. "Everyone else was obsessed with either Justin Bieber, One Direction or some other band with half-dressed chicks."

"I'm guessing the first two were for the girls?"

"Hopefully," he laughed.

I laughed with him, but after I stopped I looked at him again and suddenly the atmosphere grew serious.

"Gerard?"

"Yeah?" he almost whispered.

I sighed. "Are you going to cooperate, or do we have to repeat what happened yesterday?"

He hesitated, but then it clicked. "Oh. Frank, you…no, don't-"

"Fine, then. Yesterday it is."

I dashed out of my room and to the bathroom. Like lightning, I wet a washcloth and smeared soap all over it. Then, before I could go back to get Gerard, I heard him running down the hallway.

"Oh no you don't!" I yelled, chasing after him and brandishing the towel like a torch. He yelped and braced himself on the other side of the couch.

"Gerard, I've already seen it, just let me."

He shook his head. "No. Not all of it." Then he covered his mouth with his hands, eyes wide.

"There's _more? _What are they _doing_ to you?"

He hesitated, and I took this to my advantage and lunged, grabbing his waist and pulling him down on the couch.

I sat on his hips. "Ha."

His eyes narrowed. "Not fair."

"Totally fair."

Suddenly, a defeated expression came over his face.

"Is this why?"

That caught me off guard. "What?"

"Is this why you invited me over? So you can laugh at everything that's happened to me, even though I probably deserve it."

I gasped. "Gerard, that's not it at all. I really do want to help you, but I can only do so if you tell me the full story. And you don't deserve any of this at all! And you want to know something?"

"What?"

I looked him directly in the eyes. "I've idolized you for God knows _how_ long."

His eyes widened. "You have?"

"Yeah. I mean, I thought you were perfect. You still are. You'll always be perfect to me."

I heard his breath catch in his throat.

And, in a sudden turn of events, I heard footsteps enter the room, only to stop dead in their tracks.

"I, uh," my dad stammered. "Am I interrupting anything?"

I blushed redder than I ever had in my life. "Dad, what the heck? We weren't doing anything."

Gerard decided to be all smart and say, "Sadly, no, we weren't," which made me smack him on the side of the head. "Not the time, Gerard."

My dad stared at us before grinning. "Alright, I believe you. But Frank, if you two ever decided to date, I'd drive you. You can tell me anything, you know."

I face-palmed, my cheeks beet red. Gerard laughed at my embarrassment.

"Dad, really?"

He raised his hands in the air defensively. "Just putting it out there. Moral support is always a good thing."

I sighed. "Don't worry, dad."

"I'm not worried! Plus, I'd prefer Gerard over any other boy. He seems nice."

"DAD!"

"Okay, I'm going, I'm going."

After my dad left, Gerard and I looked at each other for a millisecond before he broke out in hysterics.

"Your face is priceless!" he howled.

I scowled at him, then grinned evilly and began attacking his face with the washcloth, which, since my dad had arrived, I had forgotten up until about three seconds ago.

He froze when he realized what I was doing. "HEY! Not fair! Taking advantage of me like that!"

I frowned at him. "Do I have to do this the hard way?"

"I thought this was the hard way."

"This is the semi-medium easy-hard way."

"What?"

I shook my head and sat up again. Then I body-slammed him back into the couch, holding him hostage with my own body. "This," I said in a strained voice, "is the hard way."

He sighed. "You did this yesterday."

"I know."

He smirked. "I bet I could get you off."

"Go ahead. Try."

He lifted his back off the couch- well, tried to. I pinned him down with my arm and resumed the scrubbing of his face. "Told you."

He sighed again. "Fine."

Then, in complete and utter mutiny, he rocked his hips up into mine, trying again to get me off. An electric current ran through my body and down to my…

Oh. OH.

For the sake of my dignity, I accidentally-on-purpose fell off the couch and hit the floor, letting out a muffled "Oomph!" as I hit the ground face-first. Thank god for a carpet.

"Fine," I mumbled into the fabric. "You win."

He remained silent.

I raised my head to look at him. Just my head. "What's up?"

Where I had managed to scrub off the makeup, I saw his face was red. "Nothing."

Had he noticed my "problem"? "What?"

"Nevermind."

I shrugged dismissively and lay on the floor, waiting for my issue to go away. After a minute or two I shifted a little, and sat up gratefully.

"Gerard, please, can I just see it? I'll tell you everything about me after, I promise."

He sighed. "Fine.

I got shakily to my feet and handed him the washcloth. He took it, walked over to my bathroom, and began scrubbing his face and arms. Then he took a deep breath, faced me, and pulled his shirt over his head.

I nearly passed out.

He looked like he had been through an entire war- or at least walked naked through a cactus field.

"Gerard," I gasped.

He smiled sadly at me. "Am I still your perfect boy?"

I looked up from his chest and into his eyes. "Yeah."

He laughed softly and shook his head.

I bit my lip and began searching through the cupboards. I pulled out a bottle of peroxide and some cotton balls.

His eyes widened. "What do you intend to do?"

"Does it need confirmation? Sit."

He sat on the toilet. I kneeled on the floor and poured peroxide on one of the cotton swabs.

"This may sting a bit at first, but it's just cleaning the cuts, okay?"

He rolled his eyes. "Just do it."

I pressed the cotton ball to his chest, cleaning the gashes that were still open and had not scabbed over yet. He winced a little.

"You okay?"

He smiled. "Define okay."

I chuckled and continued cleaning the cuts.

Once I was satisfied, I rubbed Neosporin on them and patted his shoulder, standing up.

"All done."

"Thanks, Frank."

"Any time."

"You said that a while ago," he laughed.

"You noticed."

He blushed and looked down. "Sometimes I notice things other people wouldn't."

Ah. Um. Had he, uh…felt my problem earlier?

"What kind of things?"

"Your favorite color is black."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"Because you think it's safe."

I stared at him. "How did you know that?"

"Your dad is proud of you no matter what."

"…What?"

He smiled. "Told you."

"What else do you know?" I asked, astounded.

"Well, I know that I want to know more about you."

I laughed and mussed up his hair. "Alright."


	5. Idol

"My mom was upset about something my dad did. It wasn't a big thing; he just broke her favorite vase. But my dad got angry because she always broke his things, and soon they were screaming at each other about all the problems they had. My mom just snapped, and she just packed up and left. Dad got depressed, and he wouldn't get out of bed until I made him a week later. I began cutting- I didn't know what else to do. I was numb with shock, and I just wanted to _feel_ something. That was about three weeks before you showed up."

Gerard frowned. "I'm so sorry to hear that. I had no idea."

I shrugged. "It's okay."

His frown deepened. "No, it's not okay. I wasn't there when you needed me."

"And I was? Gerard, you're getting physically abused every single day, if I'm not mistaken, and you're still sympathetic for me? You're far worse off than I am. And I want to hear the whole story, by the way."

He took a deep breath. "Okay.

"First, I should tell you that Mikey isn't actually bipolar. He was diagnosed with DID- Dissociative identity disorder- when he was six. It's like…he has multiple personalities. He tore our family apart, to be honest. Dad wasn't too great in the beginning, but he hated me after 'The Incident,' and Mom…well, she's always been like that."

"'The Incident'?"

He cringed. "I knew you'd ask. Alright, well, if you must know…

"I'd been thinking about something that had been bothering me. I decided I was right, and Mikey decided to come into my room. Since he was on his good side, I told him. He's a great kid when he's stable, but I _thought_ I could trust him and confide in him. I told him that I was, well…"

Is he going to say what I think he's going to say?

"Bisexual."

Close enough.

"And then he turned around and told Dad. My dad is a complete homophobe. It sucks."

"He doesn't," I mused.

Gerard looked at me, eyebrows furrowed before he got it and laughed.

"That was good," he chortled.

I grinned. "Thanks."

He shook his head at me, smiling. "So, you're okay with it?"

"Of course. Me and my dad have the same views on pretty much everything, really, and, well, you heard him earlier." I blushed red at the memory.

He snorted at this. I frowned at him, but then laughed with him.

"So, um," I said awkwardly after a moment of silence. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Do you, uh, do you prefer guys or girls?" I winced the moment the words left my mouth.

He turned a little red and scratched the back of his neck. "Well…guys…but don't worry, I won't make 'the moves' on you while you sleep," he laughed a little.

"I wasn't worried."

He smiled. "Okay."

"Anyway," I continued, "how did you, uh, realize that you were…?"

To my surprise he began to cry.

"Gerard?" I asked tentatively.

He shook his head, turning away from me.

I gingerly put my hand on his shoulder. "What is it?"

He held his hand out as if signaling for me to wait a moment.

"I d-don't think you'd ever l-look at me t-the same," he sobbed.

I huffed. "We've been through this. I won't judge you, I promise."

"No," he choked out, wrapping his arms protectively around himself.

I sighed and stroked his cheek with my thumb. "Gee, just tell me."

He leaned into my touch, crying into my hand. Eventually he stopped and sighed deeply, turning around to face me again.

"Fine, but I'm pretty sure you'll hate me after. I told you about Robin Martin, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, in fourth grade, I had a small crush on him, okay? And then I decided to grow some balls and talk to him. We became really close friends, and I would tell him everything. Problems with my mom, Mikey, and how my dad would never do anything about it. That was before he would beat me as well. He was very accepting, but none of the other kids liked him. I didn't know why.

"Then I brought him over to my house. My mom was out at a bar, though he didn't need to know that, and my dad was bringing Mikey to the doctor. We were alone.

"I brought him down to my room. We sat on the bed and talked for a while, then out of the blue he just leaned over and kissed me. I was happy, you know, cause I didn't know he swung that way. But then…."

Gerard paused and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Frank, he raped me."

* * *

OMG classic, right?

Sorry it's so short...I have no excuse xD


	6. Accidentally In Love

"Oh," I said in a small voice.

Gerard shook his head, turning away again. I heard a sob.

Wordlessly, I wrapped my arms around him.

He lay down on his side and began speaking again.

"It was so horrible. I didn't know it, but Robin had stayed back two grades. He was thirteen, and so short I didn't even realize it. He duct taped me to my bed…and…and," he ended in a choked voice.

"God, Gee, I had no idea," I gasped.

"I told Mikey."

"You did?"

"Yep. He laughed."

"Holy…" I breathed.

"Mhm."

There was a pause.

"So, do you have any other tragic life stories?" Gerard asked, breaking the silence.

"Not as bad as that, really. It's not really tragic, it's just…the other day, I ran into this guy and he called me a faggot, and that made me think because I really don't know if I am or not."

"You've never liked anyone?" Gerard said, looking surprised.

"Eh," I shrugged. "I don't know what love is."

"Really?"

"No…"

Then it hit me. Why not ask him?

"Gerard, what's love?"

He gulped.

"Well, uh, there's a lot of different. Things."

"Like what?"

"Love is when…is when you think about them so much it hurts. Whenever you see them with someone else you go insane with jealousy, or maybe that's just me. When you always want to be near them…when you'd do anything for them. When you get these weird feelings in your stomach whenever you see them." He paused. "Is that enough?"

"I guess you felt like that around Robin?"

"Actually, no," he half-smiled. "I just…liked him. There's kind of a difference, though it's hard to explain…love is a lot stronger."

"Who did you love, then?"

He fell silent, and I regretted asking.

"I'm sorry for prying into your personal stuff," I apologized quickly.

"It's a bit late for that," he chuckled.

My stomach dropped, until he added, "I don't really mind, though. It's nice talking about it to someone. Really nice."

"Ditto."

"You know something else, though?" Gerard said quietly, curving his arms back around his figure.

"What?"

"You're the only person I trust."

"I'm glad you do, and I trust you too, you know."

This small, fragile trust we have built upon each other.

* * *

"DUDE, _not-, _agh- _fair!"_

"Totally fair," I smirked, satisfactorily watching his face turn redder and redder beneath me.

"Get your hands- ack!- off of me!"

"Boys, what are you doing in there?"

I turned about as red as Gerard, who was still winded from laughing.

"DAD, you seriously need to get your mind out of the gutter! WE'RE. HAVING. A. TICKLE FIGHT."

"Which may soon become World War Three if Frank doesn't stop tick- oh, fuck you!" Gerard ended in a gasp as I started tickling him again.

"NEVER!" I shouted.

Being the fucking ninja he is. Gerard managed to free his hand, grab one of mine, and lick all the way up my arm.

"Gross!" I exclaimed, but my stomach shivered a little.

He took advantage of my distraction and kicked his way free, grabbing a pillow and bracing it in front of him defensively.

I got ready to jump on him again, but before I could he pounced on me, yelling, "Revenge!" as he did so.

"Dad! Help! 911!" I cried in between hysterics.

"No way, you earned it," I heard Dad call.

"Dude, your dad is awesome," Gerard laughed as I was slowly tortured to death beneath him.

I began to writhe and squirm, trying to escape, but he held me fast. "I am not afraid to lick you again, you know," he said seriously, though the effect was marred slightly by him laughing at me practically dying.

"Go right ahead," I panted sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"Seriously?" he asked, his hands slowing down a little.

"I don't really care, do what you like, just get off me."

"No way," he grinned, before bending down and placing his tongue on my skin.

He started at my wrist, traveling upwards in a slow line. I thought he would stop at my shoulder, but he hesitated a bit before continuing on to my neck.

All the rational thoughts disappeared from my head as he licked my collarbone. I couldn't deny how good it felt. It made my stomach churn, but in a good way, like someone had replaced my insides with helium.

He drew his mouth up near my chin, and I wasn't sure if he was actually aware he was doing it. I jokingly yelled," Not the face!"

He jumped, but masked it with a grin. "Why ever not?"

"Cause it's my face. Your tongue does not need to be on my face."

Inexplicably, I felt a small shudder pass through him. Then he smirked evilly and opened his mouth, his tongue hovering right above my nose.

"No, Gerard, no, gah," I choked out.

He laughed, which looked really weird, and then slowly licked my nose. I thrashed around, and I'm pretty sure the expression on my face looked like I just swallowed a lemon.

I wrenched my hands free and attacked his sides. He gasped and rolled off me.

We both caught our breath, and then I began wiping his spit off of me. "I'm all wet, gross," I laughed.

"What'd you expect?" Gerard giggled.

Well, I didn't expect what happened back there.

I fell silent.

"What's the problem, Frank?" Gerard asked.

What's the problem? I don't know.

Well, maybe I'm in love.

Makes me want to turn around and face it, but I don't know anything about love.

His clicking fingers in front of my face interrupted my reverie. "Frank?"

I shook my dazed head, looking up at him through my curtain of hair.

"Something wrong?" he asked, looking concerned.

"Not in particular…" I trailed off.

Well, I didn't mean to do it, but I'm sure about it.

I'm accidentally in love.

* * *

I stole a couple of lyrics from the song Accidentally In Love by Counting Crows. It was in Shrek :3


	7. Dare

"You'd have _what?"_

"Hallucinations," I repeated. "I don't know why, but my best guess would be from blood loss."

"So, after you cut, what would you see?" He seemed genuinely curious.

I shrugged. "Don't remember."

Gerard shrugged, too. "I'd just pass out."

"I don't know why I didn't."

He looked at me solemnly, though I noticed his eyes seemed to be smiling. "You know, you need to cheer up. I know just what you need," he added mischievously.

"What?"

"Another tickle fight!" he cried, lunging at me. This time I was prepared, though, and jumped out of the way, climbing on top of him as soon as he hit the bed. Not awkward at all.

"No fair," he whined.

"Totally fair," I grinned.

"We've said this a lot today."

"You noticed."

He laughed.

"Now," I cackled evilly. "Ready for revenge?"

His eyes widened. "Oh, God no."

I opened my mouth, making a "Mah," sound, like when the doctor puts a popsicle stick on your tongue.

I licked his wrist, his forearm, his shoulder, being careful not to touch his cuts.

"You're not stopping, are you?" he sighed as I dragged my tongue across his neck. Mmm…

"Noh' 'uhtil 'm 'sa-ih-fied."

"Not until you're satisfied?" I nodded slightly. "Great," he sighed again, but I could hear the amusement in his voice.

Without warning, I drew my tongue up to his forehead.

"Not the face!" he yelled.

"You stole my words," I said sternly. "This means punishment."

I licked his nose like he had mine.

He laughed at me. "Your tongue has no effect on me."

I looked him straight in the eyes. "Does it?"

I swear I felt his breathing hitch, but before he could say anything else the door opened.

My dad gasped.

We both shouted in unison, "It isn't what it looks like, I swear!"

Dad shook his head. "Frank, I already _told_ you, you can tell me anything."

I groaned. "Dad, I know this looks _really_ bad, but I'm not gay, or about to make out with Gerard. It would take too long to explain so just believe me."

He shrugged. "Okay. Dinner's ready though. I'll just get some and bring it to you."

He left.

I looked back at Gerard, fighting the urge to just crawl under the covers and die.

He looked a little…sad.

I groaned again. "Why does Dad always come in at the most awkward times?"

Gerard recovered and shrugged. "Dad power."

I climbed off of him and sat on my haunches. "What do you want to do now?"

"I dunno. Something your dad can't possibly get any 'ideas,'" he did finger quotes at this, laughing, "from."

"Video games?" I offered, grinning.

He laughed again. "Who do I look like?"

* * *

Gerard threw the controller down, flexing his fingers. "How are you so good at this?"

"Practice, love," I said in an English accent that I totally worked. "Practice."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Fair enough."

I looked at the clock. It was about eleven. We had been playing for two hours, running on pizza.

"What do you want to do know?"

"Why do you keep asking me?" he smiled. "What do _you_ want to do?"

"Eh…I don't know."

"I know!" he exclaimed suddenly, mischief clear in his eyes. "Let's play Truth or Dare-"

"Dude, that's cliché."

"-but," he continued. "You can only do dare. So it's like a game of dares."

I pursed my lips. "Alright. You ask me first."

"Okay…" he thought for a minute. "I dare you to…run up to your dad and tell him like a teenage girl how much you love me," he ended, laughing.

I shook my head. "He'll take me seriously."

"I know. That's why it's funny. You can explain later, but not until the game's done," he added.

I huffed. "Fine. Let's go."

I walked into the living room. "Dad, I need to tell you something."

He looked up from his book and smiled. "Yes, Frank?"

I took a deep breath and shot Gerard a dirty look before throwing my hand over my heart.

"Oh, Dad, I love Gerard so much. He makes my heart stop, he's so gorgeous. Dad, I just can't help it, you were completely right, I want to marry him, and…and have his adopted babies, and…"

Gerard fell back against the wall, howling with laughter.

"You know, Frank, you could've told me in private," my dad said.

Gerard was gasping for breath by this point.

I continued on with my dramatic "confession". "But dad, you don't understand, I just love him so much. My heart beats for him. My very soul depends on his existence. He makes the blood run through my veins. He-"

"Okay, we get that Gerard is making 'the blood run though your veins'," my dad interrupted. "Are you two dating yet?"

"Yes, and we're getting married straight out of high school. It's been decided. I hope you'll come to the wedding."

Dad stared at me, with my fangirl-ish face, and then at Gerard, in a crumpled heap of hysterics on the floor. Then he shrugged and turned back to his book. "Adopt a girl. I've always wanted a granddaughter."

I helped Gerard up and threw my arms around him. "Now, we must go. I'll see you in the morning."

Upon arrival to my room I covered my face in my hands while Gerard burst into a fresh fit of laughter.

"Can't…breathe," he gasped. "God, that was funny. Holy shit. Why didn't I get that on video?"

"Because I would have killed you," I said reasonably.

I gave him a few more minutes to cool down.

"Your turn."

That shut him up.

"I dare you…" I tried to think of something devious when suddenly I had a "light bulb moment."

"To go outside, find a nearby stranger and start singing Baby by Justin Bieber in a falsetto voice."

He sighed. "I suppose I have to."

We went out to the front lawn. There was an old woman passing by.

"Go serenade her," I grinned.

He walked over and began singing in a high-pitched voice. "Baby, baby, baby, ooh-"

SMACK.

The next thing I knew Gerard was doubled over in pain, clutching his arm as the old lady marched away with a sour expression on her face.

"Dude, you okay?" I said, fighting the urge to laugh as he stood up.

"Jesus, Frank, what do they _put_ in old ladies' handbags nowadays? _Bricks?_ I swear, if she had hit any harder she would have broken my arm," he grumbled, though he laughed a little.

I inspected it. It was a bit red, but I knew it would bruise.

"Would you like me to kiss it better?" I teased.

"That's what your dad would expect," he laughed.

I frowned.

"Oh c'mon, Frankie, don't be mad."

"I know, I'm just going to have a lot of explaining to do," I sighed, noticing the fact that he'd given me a nickname. _Frankie. I like it._

* * *

I let out a squeak of surprise as I felt Gerard's icy fingertips on my shoulder.

"Tag! You're it!" he laughed.

I giggled and chased him around the lawn. I pretended to fall and twist my ankle, and when he came over I grabbed his legs and pulled him down next to me.

He let out an "Oof!" as he hit the grass, but it soon turned into laughter as he looked at me.

"We're so weird," I mused.

"Yeah," he agreed.

He pulled out his phone and checked the time. "Dude, it's one AM."

I shrugged. "Do you want to go in? Cause I might fall asleep on the grass and you'd have to drag me in."

"Sure," he yawned.

We entered my room and got in our pajamas, since I had lent him some shorts and a t-shirt. I made sure not to even look at Gerard for fear of drooling, even though I'd already seen him shirtless.

I flicked off the light and climbed into bed.

"Coming?" I asked groggily as he hesitated.

"I, uh…" he stammered. "Yeah. It's stupid."

I propped myself up on my elbows. "What?"

"I don't like sleeping in a bed…with other people," he muttered.

"Why? I can sleep on the floor if you want."

"Because…" he took a deep breath. "Because of Robin."

I gasped and sat up straight. "Gerard, do you honestly think I would do that?"

"Of course not," he said hurriedly. "It's just something I have now."

I shook my head. "Just trust me."

"I do."

He seemed to weigh his options before finally climbing in beside me.

My eyes slipped closed.

When I opened my eyes again, I knew immediately that it was a dream.

I was- at least, I _felt_- about ten years older, and I was strumming a white guitar. Subconsciously, I kept playing while I took in my surroundings. There was a boy about my supposed age, with huge glasses perched on the edge of his nose, playing a bass and not moving a muscle except his arms and swaying slightly with the music. On my other side was the complete opposite, pounding out note after note of an awesome guitar solo with a totally epic fro. And in front of me was…

"Gerard?" I gasped.

He didn't hear me, the music was too loud, and he was singing. What a _voice!_ I'd never heard him sing before, and it shocked me how good he was. I caught a couple of the words he was singing.

"…all the dirty looks, the photographs your boyfriend took." At this he did a motion over his eye, like he was taking a picture.

Then he turned around, and I could see his face.

I had to stop my mouth from falling open.

He had eyeliner on, which was smudged from the sweat on his face. His hair, which was a bit longer than I knew Present-Day Gerard's was, curved around his face and stuck to it. The features of his face had really been defined, and I swear he dropped down from heaven with a microphone in his hand.

He suddenly spotted me staring and smirked at me, the same one Younger Gerard had, prancing over next to me.

"I'm not," he sang, then grabbed the back of my head, extending the mic towards the- rather large- audience screaming at him, and pulled me into a kiss.

I barely registered them screaming, "Okay!" back at him. I opened my mouth and gasped into his. Had I not been within three inches of him, I wouldn't have heard him moan quietly in the back of his throat, but seeing as our faces were smashed together I noticed it. A bunch of huge squeals came from almost every girl in the audience, and I'm pretty sure a couple of (probably gay) dudes whooped, too.

I may have melted down into my converse.

If this had been real life, I probably would have frozen up and started freaking out from happiness, but since in dreams you can do anything you want I threw my guitar out of the way and threw my arms around his neck, kissing him furiously. He moaned again, a bit louder this time, but still only heard by me.

"Frank, what-" he began, but I tugged the guitar off of my neck and let it fall to the ground, pulling him closer.

The audience sung up at the stage, not caring that there was a lack of instruments and voice.

"Frank," he panted. "I didn't know that was how…you felt."

I pulled back for a second and looked at him, confused. "Then why'd you kiss me?"

He looked puzzled, too. "Frerard…?"

Suddenly, my dream-self decided to remember interviews and stage-kisses, all claiming it was for publicity.

"We're in a band?" I said, aghast.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Frank, are you feeling all right?"

I shook my head, grinning. "No, I'm not okay."

He grinned and smashed his lips back into mine.

I kissed him back, my mind getting hazier and hazier as my hands roamed his back. I groaned out his name, and suddenly everything became blurry.

"Gerard," I cried out again as he began to fade.

My eyes snapped open.

It really was a dream. I sighed, flopping over onto my side, only to be met with the same person in my dream.

Did I seriously just do that? Dreaming about kissing him while he was sleeping over? God, it's a good thing I'm not very perverse, or who knows what else might've happened.

I heard Gerard mumble something and snapped back to reality.

He flopped over onto his stomach and groaned something into my pillow.

"What was that, Gee?" I laughed quietly.

He groaned again.

"Frank…"

My eyes widened and I leaped backwards, doing a what-the-fuck-just-happened pose.

"Gee? You awake?"

Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, sweating and shivering at the same time.

"Gee?"

He looked at me and sighed in relief. "Oh thank God. What are you doing?" he added, looking at me weirdly. I realized I was still sprawled out over my side of the bed.

"Nothing. Are you okay?"

He shook his head. "Yeah. I just had a nightmare. Did I wake you up?"

"No."

"Oh."

"What was your nightmare about?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "You were at my house, and we were in my room, and then Mikey came in…and started beating the absolute shit out of you, and I couldn't do anything…"

He sniffed.

I put my hand on his shoulder and began rubbing it absentmindedly. "It's okay. That didn't happen. It was just a dream."

He rolled his eyes. "Really?" he said, his voice oozing sarcasm.

I laughed. "Yep."

He smiled. "So, why were you up?"

I hoped he couldn't see the blush on my face because of the darkness. "Uh, I had a dream, too…"

"A nightmare?"

"Not exactly. Gerard, what were we, um, doing before Mikey came in?"

I'm pretty sure he blushed, too. "Just…talking."

"Yeah. Cool. I'm going to bed."

"Same."

I curled back under the covers and let my brain wander for hours before sleep took over me, though it was probably only a minute.

* * *

Sorry about that, guys...


	8. Make Me Shiver

IT LIIIIVES *zombie arms*

Smexy title, no?

* * *

I was pleasantly woken by a creepily grinning Gerard bent over me about two inches from my face.

I let out a squeal of surprise and fell off of the bed. Gerard started laughing as I landed on the floor with a loud "Thump!"

I shook my head and flopped back on my bed. "Dude, why."

"'Cause I wanted to see your expression," he chortled.

I sighed. He was hopeless. "I'm hungry. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Food?" he asked hopefully.

I smacked his arm. "Pancakes alright?"

"Yeah."

* * *

One breakfast later, Gerard sat on the couch next to me.

"Frank, I have to tell you something," he said solemnly, looking me in the eyes with dead seriousness.

"Okay."

He leaned forward, his lips right next to my ear. I could feel his breath flutter strands of my hair, tickling my neck.

I felt a small shiver creep down my spine, but it wasn't unpleasant.

His hand found its way to my shoulder, resting there. There were a few more seconds of suspense before he finally whispered,

"Tag. You're it."

He leapt off the couch and sprinted to the door while I sat there for a second, registering what had just happened.

"IT IS SO ON, WAY!" I shouted as I sprinted after him.

He was nowhere in sight.

Confused, I looked around, when suddenly I heard a giggle come from the tree in front of my house.

"Ooh, I'm so scared, Frankie used my last name," a voice taunted in a singsong voice among the branches.

I cracked a smile. "You climb fast," I said, looking up into the tree. I didn't even see him.

All of a sudden, Gerard hopped down onto a lower branch and grabbed hold of the upper, grinning down at me.

"Well, climb with me!"

I pulled myself up through the leaves until I was sitting next to him on a sturdy-looking branch.

"Hi." He smiled with all of his teeth.

"Hi."

We sat there for a few moments when suddenly, I had the craziest thought.

I wondered if I could make him shiver, too.

I mean, he _is_ bisexual, right? Even if he doesn't like me, I probably could. That'd be fun. Plus, I could pass it off the way he did.

"Gerard, come down to earth for a minute, I want to show you something," I said.

He shrugged, seeming to have forgotten about the tag game. "Sure."

We climbed down together, and when we got to the bottom, I pushed him up against the tree, grinning. His eyes widened a bit, but I pretended I didn't notice.

Leaning in slowly like he had, I moved one of my hands up to his shoulder, barely brushing his shirt on the way up. I breathed shallowly into his ear a couple of times for effect.

Then I felt it.

He shivered.

"Tag. You're it," I breathed, then darted away laughing.

I was cheering, "Victory!" as he chased me around the lawn, but in my head, I privately celebrated a small, secret victory of my own.

* * *

"Dad, we're not getting married!" I announced, crossing my arms.

"Yet," Gerard smirked, and I smacked his arm.

My dad sighed, not even looking up from his papers. "Shame."

"We weren't even going to! It was this guy's idea of a dare! Honest!"

"I figured once you got to the 'adopted babies' part that you were making it up."

This set Gerard off again.

"Daaaad," I moaned, burying my face in my hands. Parents…

My dad looked up and eyed me over the rims of his reading glasses. We stared at each other for a minute, and I could tell he knew something I didn't. It was like his eyes were smirking at me.

Gerard looked back and forth between us. "Am I missing something?"

I blushed and looked back at Gerard hurriedly. "No."

He shrugged. "Alright. Hey, I was wondering…" he trailed off, looking at me awwardly.

"Wondering…?" I prompted.

"…If maybe you wanted to come over to my house? I mean, Mikey isn't that bad, really, and my parents are going to be out, so…"

"Hm?" my dad looked up, but before he had a chance to make a (highly embarrassing) comment, I nodded and smiled. "Sounds great. Do you want to go right now, or…?"

"Uh, maybe we could do something first, if you like…"

My dad rolled his eyes. "Just go Frank. Have fun."

I got the feeling he knew more than he let on.

* * *

Gerard and I walked in silence all the way to his house, but it wasn't awkward. Not for me, anyway. I was lost in thought about Gerard, and why I had fallen for him. Underneath the mask of "popular school boy" was someone who really cared about people. He must have been hurt a lot by his "friends" to have to hide that side of him from others. Not to mention Robin…

"We're here," Gerard announced glumly.

I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt as I stared up at his house. True to his word, there were no cars in his driveway.

"Shall we?" I offered. He nodded and began walking up to the front door. I trailed behind him.

He took a deep breath, much like before, and opened the door.


End file.
